


off the drink

by orphan_account



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: BODY SHOTS BABEY, F/F, not really sex... just some tongue alcohol and a pair of freaks lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 12:59:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14770094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Hawke, Bela, and a bottle of brandy.





	off the drink

**Author's Note:**

> i really did listen to sativa by jhene aiko while writing this. it's gay babes

Hawke likes the way The Hanged Man sounds from another room. The busy, idle chatter; the sing-a-long and strumming of a lute; the occasional scuffle of chairs on the shoddy wood floor and the distinct sounds of fighting: punches being thrown, glasses being broken. The noises are there but muffled—and she likes them from  _Isabela's_ room, specifically, because it sort of feels like she and Bela are lounging in their own little world made up of four pirate-vandalized walls, wrapped up in something that simply belongs to the two of them, as the world continues on outside. It's a habit they've started making: a few drinks in, after most of the others leave to where they lay their head for the night, Hawke and Bela snatch up a bottle of something good and slip into her room to wile the hours away. 

Most of the time they take turns drinking from the bottle and swap stories. Sometimes they make out until the sun rises and their lips are positively bruised. Others, they forget the bottle's even there and just go for a good round of fucking (or three). 

Tonight, they're sitting sideways on Isabela's tiny thing of a bed, backs pressed against the wall and legs hanging over the edge. Hawke's not drunk—well, not  _really_ —and she waits with barely-there patience as Bela pops open the bottle of brandy, tips it halfway to her mouth, then pauses with a thoughtful smirk. She glances conspiratorially at Hawke out the corner of her eye, and Hawke laughs.

"Hurry it up, already."

Bela's response is to tackle Hawke backwards on to the bed, pinning her down with her forearm pressed across Hawke's shoulders. Then she uses a knee to push up Hawke's shirt, grabbing the rest with her fingers as she settles her hips astride Hawke's own. Isabela, because she's Isabela, does not spill one drop of alcohol.

"Maker, Bela, what're you doing?"

"Hm," she hums, completely ignoring Hawke, confused and trapped and a little bit aroused despite it all beneath her. She slowly spins the bottle in front of her, eyes scanning the label. Hawke can tell she's not reading it, just being a tease. "No limes and no salt on hand, but I think this'll do. Don't you, sweet thing?"

"Do for  _what_ _?_ _"_

Isabela's eyes are twinkling with mischief. It's inherently sexy, so when Bela just says, "hold still," Hawke unthinkingly complies.

The trail of alcohol is cold against Hawke's heated skin as Isabela carefully tips it down her stomach, tongue belatedly following the path and lapping a little where it settles in Hawke's navel. She feels Bela's lips curl into a smile against her belly; flips it a little when Bela nips with her teeth.

"Oh," Hawke says, because that's all she really  _can_ say. 

"My girl catches on quick," Bela says as she crawls back up Hawke's body, slanting their lips together. The kiss is extra slippery with the brandy. It tastes twice as good, makes the alcohol doubly intoxicating. Bela gives her a final peck on the lips. "My turn."

She leans back up and yanks her tunic over her head, mussing up her hair and sending her earrings swinging. The sight makes Hawke grin, splays her hands at Bela's waist and tucks her fingertips under her smalls.

"You tease. Not yet," Isabela laughs, swatting Hawke's hands away. She places the brandy in her palm instead, leans back and gives Hawke an expectant look.

Hawke doesn't need more than a second to decide what she wants to do. Isabela raises an intrigued eyebrow when Hawke hooks her hand beneath Bela's knee and props her thigh straight in the air. She tips the bottle against the inside of Bela's knee, lets it trickle down her inner thigh, then plants her mouth at the crease of Bela's hips, right against her smalls, and meets the trail of alcohol halfway. She swirls her tongue a little as she goes higher, grinning against Isabela's knee bone when she glances down and sees the slight wet patch that's formed on the front of her underwear. Hawke sits back on her haunches between Bela's spread legs and takes a smug swig of alcohol, watching as Bela practically rips the linens from around her chest. 

She hands the brandy over when Isabela beckons for it and watches as she spills some of the alcohol over her breasts. After Hawke leans over to lap it up, teeth scraping unnecessarily but pleasantly (based on Bela's delighted gasp, that is) against her nipples, Isabela flips her over and returns the favor. 

"You're going to make a mess of your sheets," Hawke notes breathlessly as Isabela's tongue swirls against her hipbones. 

"Oh, but we make a mess of the sheets nearly every night," Bela replies, then promptly licks a broad stripe from Hawke's navel to sternum. Her eyes glint with meaning when she glances up at her and adds, "And then some."

Hawke reaches down and pinches Isabela's backside. "Dirty."

"Always," Isabela hums with a wide smile. The bottle hits the floor beside them with a neat  _thunk_. "But you're right. Let's get to the real fun, shall we?"

Before Hawke can needlessly answer that rhetorical question, Isabela's got a hand snaked between her thighs.  


It's their own little world, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm debating writing an actual smut scene and making this a two shot but Whom Knows


End file.
